


pinocchio

by Carrot_Bunny



Series: 30 days NSFW Victuri challenge [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Body Image, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Masturbation, Sentimental, have I mentioned how much I love yuuri in a dress? because I love yuuri in a dress, i’m not sure what the term is for it really but there’s something in there, or clothed mutual masturbation/making out to be accurate, please tell me if you need me to tag anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrot_Bunny/pseuds/Carrot_Bunny
Summary: Day 6: Clothed getting off“Oh, I just had a dream where I was married to the most amazing, talented, and beautiful man in the world. Then I woke up and remembered I already did that.”





	

A lovely figure stares back at Victor from the other side of the glass surface. She has sparkling blue eyes, soft plush lips, and a waterfall of silver locks cascading over her shoulders. Woven butterflies flit amidst the embroidered flowers on her cotton dress, swishing and swaying with every shift of her hips. Her smooth ivory skin gleams faintly in the sunlight streaming through the overhead window.

But Victor blinks once, and the image is distorted as other details come into focus. He sees the bump protruding starkly from the throat. He sees the fabric stretched thin across broad shoulders, threatening to burst at the slightest provocation. He slips the dress over his head and lets it fall to the ground, and takes in the harsh firm lines in place of shapely curves, bulging muscles instead of slender limbs, solid muscle without a single touch of softness anywhere.

She had been his refuge, a place where he could express himself freely. But at the same time she was also a plaster mould his body fought to break out of and was even now already littered with cracks and dents; it was only a matter of time before it disintegrated completely. He could either cling onto every last trace as it drifted away from him, or he could choose to part with this final memory on his own terms.

Victor makes his choice and picks up the scissors. He gathers up his hair, then takes one last look at the mirror. 

“Goodbye,” he whispers as a solitary tear rolls down his cheek, and then the scissors snap shut.

* * *

He finds Yuuri in the kitchen on a late Sunday afternoon, humming a tune as he fries the pork cutlets in the skillet. The cotton dress billows around his knees, butterflies fluttering with his every move. He doesn’t pause when Victor’s arms encircle his waist, but tilts his neck back to meet his seeking lips.

“Good to see you too, sleepyhead,” he says with a smile. “You want dinner already?”

Victor shakes his head before nuzzling the spot where Yuuri’s neck meets his shoulder. “Want you,” he mumbles.

Yuuri laughs as he turns off the gas cooker and transfers the pork cutlets onto the rice bowls waiting beside the stove. He sets down his spatula before turning around to cup his husband’s face with both hands. “Okay, I’m all yours,” he tells Victor, then kisses him again.

They don’t break apart as Victor lifts Yuuri onto the counter, the other’s legs winding around his sides. His hands move down Yuuri’s waist to his hips, then dip under the dress to caress him between his thighs. “Have you been entertaining yourself in your head or are you just happy to see me?” he teases.

Yuuri grins. “I could ask you the same,” he replies while nudging the bulge in Victor’s sweatpants with his knee. “Must’ve been a good nap, huh?”

“Oh, I just had a dream where I was married to the most amazing, talented, and beautiful man in the world. Then I woke up and remembered I already did that.”

“Such a flirt,” Yuuri snipes playfully, then giggles when Victor nips at the underside of his raised chin.

“It’s not flirting, it’s the truth!” Victor insists as his fingers trace the lines of embroidery crisscrossing Yuuri’s front, weaving from one flower to the next.

“I almost threw this dress away,” he admits quietly. “It was one of my favourites before, until my body was fully matured and I couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. I used to think I looked pretty in it, but the physical changes I went through tarnished the perfect illusion I cultivated and I knew I had to let it go. I’d always known I couldn’t keep it forever… but a part of me wanted to believe I could.”

He takes Yuuri’s hands into his and smiles tenderly up at him. “Seeing you in this though – I made myself up like a porcelain doll when I wore it, but you… you’re different. A better different, something solid and real. It’s like all this time I was only holding onto it while waiting for you to come along, even if I didn’t know it at the time.”

Yuuri lowers his eyelids shyly. “I know what you mean. I mean, it wasn’t my own image I was holding onto, but yours actually. I looked up to you as this legendary figure who was brilliant and flawless… and then I met you, and you were a thousand times better than anything I could’ve dreamed of.” 

He touches Victor’s cheek gently. “You’re not an illusion, Victor. I wanted you to be yourself and you didn’t hold back. You showed me everything you are, and allowed me to love all of you, and I’m so incredibly grateful for that.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,  _ lyubov moya _ .” When Victor leans forward again Yuuri can feel him smiling against his lips. He reaches out and pulls his husband closer, pressing their bodies flush against each other and clamping his thighs around Victor’s waist. A hand burrows into silvery locks still tousled from sleep and cradles the base of his skull as the kiss deepens.

“ _ Yuu _ ri, your glasses are getting in the way,” Victor complains jokingly, then leans back slightly to take the offending instrument off. He folds it and sets it on the countertop, then peppers Yuuri’s forehead with kisses while palming him under the dress.

“We could head back to the bedroom if you want,” Yuuri suggests as his fingers tease Victor’s nipples into erect little nubs through his shirt.

“Nah, this is fine. All I need is you,” Victor breathes before their mouths meet again naturally.

Yuuri’s black locks end halfway down his neck, his brown eyes squint when he’s not wearing glasses, and the tip of his nose resembles a cherry tomato when out in the cold. His tummy is soft and an easy target for poking, and his thighs could probably crush melons between them. He isn’t tall and muscular or slender and willowy, just another ordinary figure no different than the ones you pass on the street every day. There isn’t anything about his looks that would cause anyone walking past to give a second glance - yet his mere presence renders Victor unable to ever take his eyes off him.

And right now, when Yuuri’s head is thrown back and his parted lips are quivering with pleasure, Victor wants more than to just look at him for all eternity. He wants to break through the glass surface and reach out, to feel warmth on his skin and hear soft breaths murmuring his name. Yuuri isn’t a perfect portrait in a gilded frame – he’s nails digging into Victor’s back and teeth biting down on his shoulders, long firm strokes on his manhood and heat pooling under his hands. 

He’s rough and unpredictable and  _ real _ , and Victor wonders why he ever spent all that time cooping himself up in the shell of his former self when this was waiting for him all along.

“ _ Aishiteru _ , Yuuri,” he whispers, and lets himself go at the same time Yuuri comes undone in his arms.

The setting sun peeks in through the kitchen window, the wall clock in the hallway chimes the half-hour, and the humid air is forming beads of sweat on Victor’s skin. He feels Yuuri’s fingers rubbing circles onto the small of his back and dips his head to kiss his nape right above the collar. The woven fabric scratches against his nose and leaves a slight itch.

He wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“My boxers feel disgusting,” Yuuri mumbles as he rests his chin on Victor’s shoulder.

“You wanna shower together then?”

“Don’t tempt me, the food’s going to get cold if we don’t eat soon,” Yuuri says with a laugh as he nudges Victor off him, then gets off the countertop and lifts his skirt. He peels off the sticky boxers and tosses them into the laundry bin out in the hallway, then turns to pick up the pork cutlet bowls.

“Going commando, are we?” Victor observes, chuckling as he takes a seat at the kitchen island next to his husband and hands him a pair of chopsticks retrieved from the cutlery drawer.

“I’d rather bear with a slight breeze around my privates than walk around with semen stuck to my thighs.” Yuuri knocks his knee lightly against Victor’s under the table top. “Besides, we’ll be taking a bath soon anyway, aren’t we?”

Victor props his chin up with a hand to look at the man he loves, reaching out to twine their fingers together. “Of course we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hesitated when figuring out what tags to use for this, because I’m not certain how to put it into words. I guess a lot of this comes from my own experiences when my physical shape didn’t fit the norm of the ideal teenage girl’s appearance prevalent in my culture, and how I came to terms with that. This is somewhat written for the younger me that still wants to look pretty in a dress too, I guess.
> 
> (god this was supposed to be a smutfest how did it turn out this way)


End file.
